


Demons

by TheWaitingFangirl



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Depression undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I never played Unity so I don't know if it's OOC, Insomnia, Sad Arno, Too much emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaitingFangirl/pseuds/TheWaitingFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The house was quiet — besides the battering rain against the glass windows. You looked at the living room, then at the small kitchen and heard the popping noise of a cork. You sighed, strolling towards the study, inching the heavy door open and peering inside, breath held as to not startle the man inside the room. </p><p>"Arno.“ You entered the study, arms wrapped around yourself in a poor attempt of heating your cold body. "Come now. Come to bed with me.”</p><p>The man huffed at you, looking away. “How long have you been there?" </p><p>"Long enough.” You said with an sympathetic look. </p><p>***</p><p>A few years after the Revolution, Arno finally settles down with you in a cozy home, though his past keeps haunting his atormented soul, driving the assassin into insomnia crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demons

**Author's Note:**

> Another request. I'm not sleeping anymore.
> 
> Oh, god.
> 
> Feel free to send me a request if you want to, tho! *twitching eye while drinks more coffee*

The night was cold, not all this weird to the raging storm outside, the drumming of the rain against the windows waking you up. You shifted at the bed, reaching out your hand, planning on snuggle against Arno, just to find an empty and cold spot where the man had previously been. You sighed. Sitting up at the bed and wrapping the night gown securely against your waist, you made your way out of the bed.

It hardly ever happened nowadays, but Arno still had a few nightmares, most of them about the revolution time and people that he had lost during the fight. Arno liked to play big and dismissed most of his problems to you, thinking it would be better to deal with his demons alone, a habit that you used to scoff at quite a bit, careful to not hurt him. The floorboards were cold against your feet, as you strolled through the corridors, numbing them.

The house was quiet — besides the battering rain against the glass windows. You looked at the living room, then at the small kitchen and heard the popping noise of a cork. You sighed, strolling towards the study, inching the heavy door open and peering inside, breath held as to not startle the man inside the room.

The study of the house wasn’t a fancy thing, but yet it had its charm. The room was adorned with many bookshelves, an dark mahogany desk with a fancy high-backed chair behind and two comfortable armchairs in front of it. The fireplace — which was now lit and burned in a lazy and cozy light — was located at the wall across the desk, a few trinkets over its wooden surface. Arno had a bottle of wine on his hand, eyes locked out of the window, his expression an concentrated frown. You pressed your lips together when the man lifted the bottle in an eager motion, taking in a long swig, sighing afterwards. 

Looking better, you saw another bottle — this one empty —, accompanied by a long abandoned wine glass, at the feet of the armchair that he had carried near the window. His hair was a disheveled mess, dark bags under his eyes, clothes all creased up by — you supposed — tossing around at the bed; a sorrowful expression at his face when he stared down at the bottle and frowned slightly as if only noticing it’s presence now. 

He looked  _miserable_. 

 "Arno.“ You entered the study, arms wrapped around yourself in a poor attempt of heating your cold body. "Come now. Come to bed with me.”

The man huffed at you, looking away. “How long have you been there?" 

 "Long enough.” You said with an sympathetic look. 

 He stayed quiet for a moment, weighing his decision, taking a quick swig of the drink. His eyes looked glassy, you noticed. “Not now, Y/N." 

Sighing, you approached him and took the bottle off of his hand, placing it at the mahogany desk, turning to him. Arno eyed you carefully, taking in your stance. You were not pissed, he noticed.  _More kind of worried_. He let out an heavy breath, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I’m such a mess." 

"You’re not,  _mon amour._ ” You hurried forward, taking in his head between your hands and staring lovingly at him. “You just need to open up more.” You made a pause. “I’m sorry I can't… make it go away. But I still love you all the same. You know that.” Arno’s eyes watered at your statement and you noticed the thin streaks of dryed teardrops that had run down his cheekbones. 

The man held you in place, his hands resting at your arms when he closed his eyes. “Nobody can. I fear it will, one day, overcome me. You. My life. I…” he sighed, turning his face to press it against your slightly cold palm. “They won’t go away, Y/N. What I’ve seen and done…” He sighed before giving your hand a brief kiss, tipping his head forward and pressing it against your torso, just below your bust. “You deserve so much more, Y/N." 

"Don’t, Arno.” You stroked his head, running your small hands against his wavy hair, which made the man wrap his arms around your waist. He was so broken right now it made your heart clench in the most painful way possible. “Just don’t." 

The assassin remained silent for a few minutes, letting you caress his hair and scratch his scalp, undoing whatever knots you would find. "I love you. I love you so much.” He mumbled, voice cracking, and pulled you closer, nuzzling your torso, his unsteady breath worrying you all the more. 

 "I know,  _mon amour_. I know.“ The wind howled behind, muffling the quiet sob of the assassin, making you almost doubt about its existence if it wasn’t for his shaking shoulders. "Come with me, Arno. I’ll brew you some tea, okay?" 

 "…  _Très bien_.” The frenchman hesitantly pulled away, his puffed eyes almost making you regret the decision.

 Arno lifted from the armchair and you held his hand, coaxing him out of the study hurriedly, eyeing the still half full bottle of wine over the desk, as if it’d attack you before closing the heavy doors of the room. 

You pushed the man towards the bedroom with gentle hands and a reassuring kiss at his forehead — having to stand at your tip toes to do so —, cringing slightly at the smell of acid alcohol. 

 "Wash your face and change your clothes, Arno. I’ll bring you the tea, alright?“ You smiled trying to catch the attention of his numbed mind. 

"Right.” He mumbled, making his way to the bedroom. You pushed your hair back, sighing tiredly. 

 After a few minutes, you had a smoking hot chamomile tea cup at your hands and when you entered the room, found Arno sitting at the end of the bed in fresh new clothes, his hair still a mess; hands against his head in a pitiful way. You pressed your lips in a thin line.

“Drink it,  _mon amour_.” The assassin lifted his gaze and accepted the cup carefully, taking a moment to smell it. 

“Chamomile. Really?” He smirked in a playful way. 

“Drink it already, you jerk.” You told him with a soft smile. 

The rain was almost ceasing right now, it’s heavy rivulets turning now into a light drizzle. You made some small talk, making the man smile as he finished the hot tea. “Come here. Lay with me." 

"I’m not sleepy.” Arno replied, inching closer to you all the same, pulling the blanket over both of you.

“Sure thing.” You mumbled, pleased by the soft touch of the cotton, fitting your petit body against his, lying at your side, folding it until his forehead was comfortably pressed against your bust. Soon enough starting to trace a slow and intricate pattern at his back, comforting him. “Better?" 

Arno sighed, his free arm wraping around your waist and pulling you towards his warm body, throwing a leg over yours. "Much better.” He mumbled, his breath slowly turning into slow and gentle puffs. You sighed once more, caressing his brownish hair before accompanying him into a tired and dreamless sleep.


End file.
